


A Loaded God Complex

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, definitely a little twisted, mention of Cora/Rumple, mention of Rumbelle, mention of outlaw queen, or something like it, part power struggle/part sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: An expansion of the scene in episode 6.02 "A Bitter Draught." When the Evil Queen propositions Gold, he doesn't say no.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no shame, I'm sorry. I am Golden Queen trash, y'all, and so I just could not resist when the show threw me this bone. This is a little twisted, a little fucked up, and honestly more about power and dominance than anything. I don't _think_ any warnings apply, except to say this is a little messed up, because it's Gold and it's Regina. Everything is consensual, but as with everything with them, there's always a bit of powerplay going on.

Gold knows what the Evil Queen wants. Or rather, he knows what she’s doing. He taught her this, after all. How to use her body as a weapon, as a tool. To make others uncomfortable, to throw them off their guard, to distract so you can get what you want.

 

He did this to her enough; invaded her space as if it were his own. Trailed his fingers along her neck, her collarbone, touched her shoulders and the expanse of her back when she wore those backless velvet dresses she so favored in her castle. He’s grabbed her by the neck, held her so close to his face that they could have kissed, pressed her into walls, her vanity, the table in his castle.

 

And it was all about control, about dominance, about power.

  
He knows that that is what this is, as she steps ever so closer, his back to the cabinet behind him.

 

He lets his hand be dragged to her neck, feels the soft skin against the backs of his fingers. His eyes follow the path she takes his hand, lingering on the shadows cast over her breasts.

 

He’s the Dark One. He could push her away. Could take a hold of that pretty little neck and snap it easily. Wouldn’t even have to touch her to do it, actually.

 

And the Evil Queen (Regina, but it’s hard to think of this version of her like that. He hasn’t seen this version in decades. Not even the desperate mayor fighting against the savior was the same as his monster.) knows that. It’s why she’s smirking at him as her hand lets go of his and reaches for his lapel.

 

Gold doesn’t move, lets his hand stay in the valley between her breasts, feeling the subtle movement of her chest as she breathes. He can feel the warmth of her through the fabric of her elaborate top, so out of place in this world.

 

Her fingers dance over his jacket, move to grip his tie, using it to tug him a little closer to her.

 

“And what makes you think I have any interest in seeing how this story plays out?” he asks her, responding to something she said a minute ago, or maybe years ago. Everything feels a little jumbled, seeing her like this, the Evil Queen in her glory, and he can almost smell the damp air of her castle, remembers advancing toward her with measured steps until she was pressed to her vanity, unable to run away from him as he leaned in close.

 

The Queen’s smirk grows, red-painted lips twisting as she is the one to press in, so close to him now. She inhales softly, and his traitorous eyes land on her lips, and then lower.

 

Her smirk widens, her eyebrow raising in challenge. “Are you going to pretend like you haven’t thought about it?” she murmurs, voice impossibly soft now. Almost sweet. “Like you haven’t… wondered?”

 

He thinks of Belle, of his son, and he shouldn’t be doing this. He loves Belle. He does. He thinks he does, anyway, when he’s not convinced that the Dark One cannot love anything but power.

 

He thinks of Cora, too, more times than he’d care to admit. Thinks about how perfectly matched they were, and he thinks he might have loved her, could have done had she not ripped out her own heart in her ambitious need for power.

 

He thinks of Regina, so young when she summoned him in her desire to escape the situation her mother had locked her in. How he knew what a perfect monster she would make, with her selfless heart and the hope in true love that her mother had helped shatter. It was so easy to crush the pieces Cora left behind, to grind them into the dust Regina would later have to rebuild once free of his influence.

 

And yes, he had thought about it. He has eyes, after all, and Regina pranced around in tight corsets that pushed her breasts up to her neck, and leather pants that fit her like a second skin.

 

He taught her sex was power, and oh, how he thought about showing her.

 

Regina chuckles low in her throat, and leans in closer, their noses almost touching. “You aren’t still waiting around for that _bookworm_ , are you, Rumple?” she whispers, and oh, he should slap her for that. “She’ll never accept you for who you really are...”

 

Gold blanches, gives away too much of himself, and she’s laughing at him again. He feels her breath against his lips, puffs of air as she chuckles softly.

 

Her fingers tug at his tie, tightening it around his throat, and in all the times he imagined this, he thought _he’d_ be the one in control. But he tips his head back a little, resisting or submitting as he bares his throat to her, he’s not entirely sure.

 

Regina takes it as permission, surges forward and presses her lips to his. It’s barely a kiss, more a devouring, all teeth as she nips at his mouth. She’s bruising when she finally slants her lips over his, kissing him properly, her tongue pushing past the seam of his mouth.

 

He thinks of Belle, of Cora, and then pushes all thoughts of that aside as one hand comes up to cup her head, the other at her waist. He pulls her against him, closing any space that remained, and he’s kissing her back just as harshly. His fingers dig into her hair, clutch at the fabric of her overdress, gripping hard enough to hurt.

 

She laughs again, and he wants her to just _stop_ , but she breaks the kiss and a smile knifes across her face. “There’s the Rumple I remember,” she teases, and her hand slides from his tie to his hair, and she’s tugging his head back.

 

“But I’m the one in control now,” she says as she skims her teeth along his throat.

 

He groans, sagging back against the cabinet as she sucks tongue-filled kisses up and down his neck. He lets her have the reins for now, lets her suck a mark that his magic heals instantly, and she growls.

 

“Did you forget?” Gold asks, opening his eyes to look at her. “I am the Dark One, dearie,” he says, letting his accent thicken, his voice take on that bit of imp that is usually suppressed.

 

It irks her, has her pushing him so hard against the cabinet the glass rattles, various baubles and knickknacks shaking and rolling around. He holds in his groan this time as she attacks his throat, biting and sucking and creating new marks as his magic heals the old.

 

Her hands become claws as they tug at his clothes, shoving his jacket and pulling at his shirt, sending buttons scattering in her furor.

 

Gold scowls at the sound of his shirt buttons scattering along the floor. His hands grip Regina’s arms, using a little force and a bit of magic to force her away from him. “That’s enough of that, dearie,” he growls, and she blinks at him, lipstick smeared around her mouth (he’s sure quite a bit of it is on his lips now, and his throat), her eyes clouded with lust and confusion.

 

She’s startled into silence as he spins her, pressing her against the cabinet that was behind him. He pins her there with his body, and maybe a bit of magic, because that never hurts, and he brings his hand up to her neck once more, lets his fingers curl around it.

 

Not enough to restrict her breathing, but a reminder. A warning.

 

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time,” he whispers, his eyes glimmering and reptilian for a moment. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken me as one of your other conquests. Your Huntsman, or maybe your _thief_.”

 

He spits the word at her, and fire sparks in her eyes, makes her fight against his grasp. It’s futile, of course, because his magic will always be stronger than hers, imbued with darkness as he is, and he has no qualms about potentially hurting her.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ mention Robin to me,” she hisses, and he feels her magic push against him, trying to force him off and it almost makes him chuckle. It tickles more than anything.

 

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have brought up Belle first,” he murmurs to her, the taunting gone from his voice as he hardens his gaze, momentarily tightening his grip just enough to make her eyes widen. He delights in the frisson of fear he sees there.

 

“I am not some plaything for you, Regina. I am the Dark One,” he repeats, lets a bit of madness, of darkness creep into his voice. “You are not in control here. You never are.”

 

She scowls for a moment, but then she regains herself. He sees the change happen, sees the way she settles against the cabinet, her eyes going half-lidded, her mouth pursing into a sultry pout.

 

“And is that what you want, Rumple?” she purrs, arching her back, pushing her breasts against his chest. “To control me?”

 

His shirt hangs in tatters off his shoulders, and his trousers are uncomfortably tight. She’s only making it worse, the way she’s almost undulating against him. And there’s that damnable smirk again, knowing and sly as she draws her heeled foot up his calf.

 

“I think you’ll find I’m a little less controllable than I used to be,” she murmurs, and then her smile turns dark as magic skitters over her skin.

 

He feels it under his palm, the pulse of it alongside the pulse of her, and then the glass cabinet shatters behind her, tiny shards dusting the air as she laughs.

 

Gold flinches, though the shards can’t possibly hurt him. Not for long anyway, though he holds the magic back, keeps it from healing the miniscule cuts left on his skin. He grins at her, and in this moment, he feels more like Rumplestiltskin than he has in a long time.

 

“Oh,” he breathes out, leaning in until there is barely any space between them. “You’re going to regret that, Your Majesty.”

 

Regina doesn’t get the chance to respond before he’s crushing his mouth to hers, his hand still around her throat as his tongue shoves past the barrier of her lips. She laughs, short and cut off under his onslaught, and for all that Rumple would like to believe he’s the one with all the power, this feels a little like losing control.

 

He growls into her mouth, bites down hard enough on her lower lip that she gasps in pain. But then she moans, and her hands flutter, one coming up to dig her fingers into his hair, gripping tightly there as she tries to pull him closer. The other goes around his back, slipping beneath his shirt and she scrapes her nails down his back, scoring the skin.

 

Rumple grunts, lets go of her lip to groan at the pleasure-pain of her too-sharp nails against his skin. He likes this more than he should, he thinks, this bit of pain, the lust coursing through him right now. Belle flits through his mind, and some part of his heart aches. He shouldn’t be doing this -- but the darkness swells in him and he pushes the thought aside as he lets go of Regina’s throat.

 

His hand slips down her neck, without her guidance this time. Grasping the V of her top, he pulls back just enough to smirk at her, baring his teeth. And then he bares her to his eyes, ripping her dress with his strength and his magic.

 

Regina gasps, and his eyes linger on her breasts as her chest rises with the inhalation. “I liked this dress,” she scowls, but her eyes are dark, darker than he’s ever seen, and there’s a red flush creeping up her neck.

 

“While I have always been less than impressed with your magical talent,” he starts, as he dips his head to her neck. He speaks between sucking kisses and taking the soft flesh of her in his teeth, looking to leave his own marks behind, “I trust you can mend a bit of fabric.”

 

“Fuck you,” she says, then cries out when he sinks his teeth into the join of her shoulder, hard enough to leave marks behind.

 

“Wasn’t that your plan all along?” he asks, soothing the mark with his tongue, and then he slides his hands from her waist to her breasts. He palms them, surprisingly gentle as his lips make their way down her chest.

 

Regina moans, her head thumping against the ruined cabinet as his fingers squeeze her breasts, and his mouth is at the swell of one breast, teeth dragging against her. She digs her fingers into his back, and her other hand has fallen to his shoulder, grasping his shirt loosely.

 

And then she says, “Enough of this,” low enough that he hears it more as a rumble in her chest. Rumple barely has time to look up before Regina is pushing him back, and he’s been distracted enough that his magic slips. His back is against the counter before he knows it, and he smirks at her.

 

“Getting impatient?”

 

“Shut up.” She’s pulling at his clothes now, yanking at his belt and his trouser fastenings, and there’s a bit of magic at work, he feels it in the air as she strips him. He indulges her, helps her along with her own ridiculous outfit, lets his own magic peel her leather pants down her legs.

 

They’re not naked, just enough of them revealed for the act they’re about to commit. He’s got her against the counter now, pinning her there because he won’t let her think she is entirely in control. He tries to bend her over it, but she fights, hisses and growls and snarls like a wild animal as she refuses to let him take her.

 

He likes the fight, laughs at her as she lashes out with her magic. “Settle down,” he murmurs to her, nipping at her earlobe.

 

“Get _off_ me!” she shouts, clawing at him, and he groans as her magic slices over his cheek. He releases her then, enough for her to turn in his grasp and then she’s on her back, his hand at her throat.

 

She goes still beneath him, and he chuckles lowly. His magic takes the place of his hand, holding her in place as he drags his palm down her neck to rest in the valley between her breasts. “Some things never change, do they, Regina?” he says absently, and her eyes meet his.

 

If anything could kill him, he’d think it be that look. So much anger and hatred and yet she’s still responding to his touch. His hand slides further down her torso, and he can see the shiver over her skin, his eyes following her tongue as she licks her lips.

 

His hand reaches the apex of her thighs, lingering at the top of her sex. Looks up at her, just to goad her a little further, just to ask, “Is this what you want, Regina?”

 

“Just do it already, Rumple,” she growls, rolling her hips to try and encourage his hand lower.

 

He smirks, trails his hand lower, through the dark curls covering her mound. He avoids her clitoris, choosing instead to tease her folds, lightly touching her. His smirk only grows when he feels the wetness there.

 

“Well, well,” he murmurs, his voice pitched slightly higher, his chuckle a little more manic. The darkness rises in him, and he can also see the golden glitter upon his skin. “What do we have here, Regina?”

 

Regina snarls at him, and she fights against his magic, pushing against it so she can sit up. He lets her, smirking as she brings her face up to his. “Stop. Fucking. Around,” she says, and then she’s biting at his lips, kissing him harshly.

 

Her hand finds his, forces his fingers harder against her. Rumple considers teasing her some more, but she’s so wet, so warm, he can’t resist letting his finger enter her. She moans, her head dropping back from his as a second joins the first.

 

“More,” she groans, her hips moving, and Rumple is mesmerized. Her voice is low, throaty, her eyes closed and lips parted as he fingerfucks her on the counter in his shop.

 

Anyone could walk in, he thinks absently, and see him taking the Evil Queen. Anyone -- even Belle, and that almost makes him stop. But the darkness whispers to him, _She’ll never accept you_ , and it sounds like Regina. So he fucks her harder instead, crooks the two fingers inside of her, thrusts and thrusts until she’s crying out.

 

“Right there?” he whispers, and she manages a pleasured _Uh-huh_ that makes him smile, all impish and cocky. He’s done this to her, reduced the great and powerful Evil Queen to this writhing, moaning creature. “Is this how you like it, Regina? How you like to be fucked?”

 

He’s got three fingers inside of her now, and she’s stretched and warm and so tight around him. He almost can’t wait to be inside of her, to feel her like this around his dick.

 

Regina, for her part, is wordless, perhaps incapable or just unwilling to speak. She’s moaning, though, gasping and grasping at his shoulder, his wrist. She’s a mess, her makeup smeared, her hair coming down from its updo as her head hangs back. She lights up when his thumb finds her clit, pressing down hard and circling as his fingers  keep their frantic pace inside of her. Magic sparks in her eyes, at her fingertips, and he smirks.

 

He channels that magic, takes it for his own and spreads it over her skin, feeds it into her with the push of his fingers, lets it buzz over her clit as his thumb rolls over it.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she gasps out, her hand clawing at his shoulder, his waist, and then she’s coming, crying out as she falls apart before him.

 

Her head falls forward against his shoulder as he pulls his fingers out of her still-clutching heat. He barely gives her any time to recover, dots a surprisingly tender kiss on her shoulder as he takes hold of his dick with the fingers he had inside of her. His left hand finds her cheek, tips her head back so he can look in her eyes.

 

“Say it,” he mutters to her, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone.

 

She smiles at him, a little dazed from her orgasm, and that smile slowly sharpens into something more like the Evil Queen. “You want me to beg?” she laughs, reaching down with her own hand to grip him tightly.

 

He groans, barely managing to stifle it, but she knows.

 

“Not gonna happen, Rumple,” she tells him, letting her fingers pump him once, twice. “So just get inside me and fuck me. Now.”

 

It’s good enough for him, especially when she turns her head enough to catch his thumb in her mouth. She bites the pad, sends a little shudder through him, and then he’s batting her hand away from him. Lines himself up, rubbing the head through the slickness pooled between her thighs, and as his thumb slips between her open lips, his cock sinks inside of her.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he grits out, teeth clenched tight at how impossibly warm and tight she is around him.

 

“Better than you imagined?” she teases breathlessly, rolling her hips to take him deeper.

 

Rumple bites his tongue to stop from saying anything else, refuses to give her that much satisfaction. But she does feel amazing, from the wet heat wrapped around him to her legs winding around his hips, keeping him inside as he pounds into her. It’s their connection -- the magic, the bond between them that they cultivated back in the Enchanted Forest, and there’s nothing like it.

 

It’s electric, skittering down his spine, heightening every feeling. Regina’s fingers are at his back, digging in his shoulders, and then one falls to his ass, gripping hard there. Her mouth is at his neck, her teeth nipping, scraping along his pulse, his collarbone, tongue peeking out to lick up the sweat gathering on his skin.

 

“Do you feel that?” Regina asks, and he moans, breathless as he mutters _Yes_. He knows exactly what she’s talking about. The magic is thick in the air now, clogging his lungs. “It’s like old times.”

 

She laughs, light and high and strained in his ears as he fucks her harder, deeper, faster. Somehow, she manages to speak through bitten-off moans and gasps, “We’re making magic.”

 

His eyes squeeze shut, fuck, it’s overwhelming. The darkness is thick in his veins, catching in his throat. “Regina,” he breathes out, eyes opening and meeting hers.

 

Regina moans as he looks at her, leans up and catches his mouth with hers. Their tongues tangle, until the pleasure overwhelms her, forcing her to break the kiss. “Fuck,” she whines low in her throat, her hips bucking, her inner muscles fluttering around him.

 

“That’s it, Regina,” he whispers, thrusting as hard as he can inside of her. He feels it building, getting ready to explode out of him, and fuck, the magic is there too, ready for it, responding to her own magic. He can feel it, feel the hint of fire in her palms, scorching his skin as her nails score his back.

 

She whimpers, and Rumple’s fingers dig harder into her hips, pull her against him. “Oh, fuck, so close,” she gasps, breathless, barely able to get the words out. “ _Rumple.”_

“Yes, that’s it, come for me,” he orders, dropping a hand to her clit, and this time it’s his own magic pouring into her.

 

She cries out, sharp and loud and glorious as her orgasm seizes her. Distantly, he hears glass shatter, supposes he should be grateful that the counter he’s pounding Regina into holds up as who-knows-what in the rest of his shop explodes. But he’s not concerned about that, not when his own orgasm grips him, has him gasping and shuddering as pleasure and magic swirl inside of him.

 

They stay like that, locked together for a moment as they catch their breath. The air is thick with the smell of sex and magic, and it hangs heavy in Gold’s throat as he pulls away from her.

 

She’s smirking widely, and then she’s chuckling, softly at first and then it builds. Throws her head back and outright laughs, with his come drying on her thighs and her makeup smeared over his chest. She pushes him away until she has enough space to close her legs and hop off the counter.

 

With a click of her fingers, the debauched queen is replaced with the coiffed, regal version he had first discovered in his shop. She expends a little more energy to fix him up, too, even repairs his shirt. She has his tie in her hands, drapes it over his neck and ties it for him.

 

“Well, Rumple,” Regina purrs, her voice still a little hoarse, the only sign of their activities. “That was quite a lot of fun.” She leans in, licks at his lower lip and tugs on his tie. “Call me again some time, when you’re finally over that little librarian.”

 

And then she laughs, walking away, still holding onto his tie until she has to let go.

 

Left alone, he looks around at the destruction left in their wake. He can still feel the magic in the air, and the darkness feels like it might claw itself out from under his skin. His body is humming with it, the desires the Evil Queen ignited, and he wants to go after her. Wants to grab her and take and take and take until there’s nothing left but darkness and magic and sex.

 

He thinks of Belle, of his unborn son, and something that might be shame pulses just beneath everything else. He shouldn’t have allowed this to happen, should have stopped it, should have pushed Regina away. He shouldn’t hold onto these impulses, the ones that want power and control and dominance.

 

And yet.

 

It’s like Regina’s still there, nails digging into his skin, her voice inside his head.

 

He has enough presence of mind to wonder if this is what Regina felt when he was training her. Like he was still there even when he wasn’t, whispering and goading and guiding.

 

Rumple almost laughs at the thought, and tries to push it aside. Tries to not remember Regina pressed to him, or the way she took him inside, or how she sounded as she came, or the pulse of their magic surging with their pleasure.

 

He’s not going to see her again. She’ll leave Belle and his child alone, and he’ll avoid her. This cannot happen again. He can resist this darkness.

 

(It whispers to him, _She’ll never accept you, never understand you, not like I can_ , and the laugh is familiar, haunting, in his ear.)


End file.
